


they run, they hide

by rizahawkaye



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: (but ling knows), (kinda), Breaking and Entering, Crushes, M/M, On the Run, Sparring, antsy ed doesn't know where to put all his pent-up energy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2021-01-26 12:33:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21374218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rizahawkaye/pseuds/rizahawkaye
Summary: “You’re all wound up, Ed.” Ling’s voice, not Greed’s, drifted down the trees.“Why did you follow me?” Ed said. He’d sensed the presence of the homunculus; he was getting much better at that. He didn’t sense them in the way Ling or Lan Fan did, didn’t feel the souls toiling, but instead felt his blood run cold, his flesh pimple, like he’d been hit by a sudden chill.“I think I know what you need.”
Relationships: Edward Elric/Ling Yao, edling
Comments: 4
Kudos: 143





	they run, they hide

**Author's Note:**

> written for Anonymous!

Ed was made out of energy. It had gotten worse lately, festering like an open wound. The energy oozed out of him in bursts of aggravation and in the shake of his legs and the shiver of his fists. He kept snapping at Mr. Gorilla for whatever reason — maybe he took his midnight piss too loud or maybe the way he chewed his food was gross, Ed couldn’t tell — sometimes having to literally bite his tongue to keep from going overboard. He didn’t know what it was. 

Well, he did, but it couldn’t be helped. And that pissed him off more.

They had been out here for two weeks. “Here” being the wilderness; the woods; the empty cabins they found to sleep in, their cabinets filled with old cans of beans and their roofs caved in in places. Abandoned houses or vacation homes where families had once stayed and laughed and been alive. But nothing felt alive about Ed’s journey now, not even the very lively people he traveled with. They were dolls, puppets, pulled up by strings and made to dance around for empty entertainment. 

Ed felt caged even out in the open. To be fair, he felt caged mostly everywhere. 

Winry was right when she said he couldn’t sit still, not for long, and he needed an outlet, something meaningful to do. Ed had thought that meant he needed to move, like a river or the blood through his veins, but really what that meant was he needed a purpose. He didn’t feel like he had one right now, wandering the countryside, flirting with the border to Central, waiting. What was Al doing right now? Winry? The bastard colonel? Ed got angry if he thought on it hard enough. Angry, and antsy. What was he doing? Where was he going?

Ling didn’t make things any easier. Greedling. Whatever. 

He strut around — the two of them strut around? — like they were the only thing on two legs. It wasn’t outside of Greed’s purview to be absurdly grandiose and annoying, but it especially bothered Ed to see the show being played out with Ling’s body. The prince was so many annoying things, a conqueror of worlds was not one of them. And at least he’d never gone on tangents about how everything belonged to him and blahblahblah. They’d go into a village looking for a hot shower and Ed would have to sling a collar around Greed’s neck to keep him from swiping all the soaps in the town.

“For later,” he’d grin, pointed teeth like tiny daggers. “We can bathe in the lakes or rivers or wherever.” He winked.

Sometimes Ed wanted to hit Greed in the face, if only to relieve the tension. 

Ed was in a game of hide-and-hide. He used to play hide-and-seek with Al and Winry when they were younger and still had their mothers. Ed chose the toughest spots: In basements, high up in trees, underneath the floorboards in his father’s study, his body flattened. He got claustrophobic there, but it was worth it to hear Al or Winry’s shriek when they’d been found by the other, followed ceremoniously by a whispered, “Where is Ed?” Even under the floor he could hear them, plotting, thinking. If one said they’d check the top half of the house and the other the bottom Ed would find a way to slink out undetected to sit up in the tree out front, and if they came outside then he’d follow a branch to the house’s roof, where his mom would inevitably spot him (because she didn’t suck at hide-and-seek, unfortunately) and demand that he, “Get. Down.”

Ed’s now was his then. Except now no one was looking, and he had to tiptoe around shadows in a never-ending game of hide-and-hide.

Mr. Gorilla snorted then spit, his loogie flying into Ed’s carefully made fire. The disgusting mixture of sputum and phlegm was large enough to send embers up upon impact, and Ed almost spit his beans back into their can. This was their third night at an empty cottage on the edge of a lake, a boat tacked to a dock. It clunked hollowly against the dock’s surface, wood on wood, constantly, like the chanting of a clock. The inside of the cottage was pristine, polished wood lain with embroidered rugs. There was a sea green couch by the windows, velvet to the touch, that was draped in different furs. Ed was no expert, but he suspected bear and moose. There was fox fur stretched over the dining table chairs, Ed could tell by the creamy red flecked with black and white. The wiry feel of it.

The whole thing was prescribed. People didn’t happen upon cottages like this, they planned for them. Rich people were given little slips to fill out. They put their preferences down one line at a time and a decorator and architect and designer came out to the trees, catching mud on their heels and their boots that cost more than Ed made in a year, on the ends of their slacks, whimpering about nature and the weather and the like, to fulfill the wishes of people who didn’t – and never would – care a lick for them. That was why Ed didn’t mind that Greed had blasted a hole in one of the cottage’s windows, throwing shards of glass over the stained hardwood. It glittered there, unmoved. No one had roused to clean it up. They raided the kitchen as they had done at every other house or cottage or cabin. They found the canned goods first, usually stuffed at the back of the cabinets, which in this cottage were inlaid with turquoise-crusted handles, and piled them in their arms. They stole spoons and forks. Ed always made sure those got placed in the sink, though, once they were through.

“That’s repulsive,” Ed said to Mr. Gorilla, thinking of the pretty interior of the cottage, the juxtaposition of it and them, clean and dirty, still and frantic. Ed put his can of beans down, leaning his silver spoon against its aluminum rim.

“You need to lighten up,” the lion guy said. Ed still hadn’t bothered to remember their names, not yet. It would make everything too final. Too real. “You’ve been walking around like you’ve got a stick up your ass.”

Ed got up and kicked his can. It went flying, nearly missing Mr. Gorilla’s shoulder, into the sweeping darkness of the trees. It disappeared with a thud.

Ed didn’t say anything – he couldn’t trust his own tongue right now – and walked away in the opposite direction of the chimeras and his vaulted can of black beans. He kept walking through the dark, leaves and twigs crunching under his boots, a breeze rustling the trees, until he was so far away from Mr. Gorilla and Mr. Stick-Up-Your-Ass that he could no longer see the flickering shadows of the fire. Ed was outside but he felt distinctly like he needed fresh air.

“You’re all wound up, Ed.” Ling’s voice, not Greed’s, drifted down the trees.

“Why did you follow me?” Ed said. He’d sensed the presence of the homunculus; he was getting much better at that. He didn’t sense them in the way Ling or Lan Fan did, didn’t feel the souls toiling, but instead felt his blood run cold, his flesh pimple, like he’d been hit by a sudden chill.

“I think I know what you need.”

Ed tilted his head to the tops of the trees. “What I nee—”

He didn’t get to finish his sentence as something dark and heavy fell from above, landing squarely in front of him. Claws ghosted over the curve of Ed’s throat, urging him back until his back was pressed uncomfortably into a tree. “I see you’re getting the hang of that body.” Ed said. His hands flew to Ling’s arm, solid as steel, and started to push back. “I’m surprised the homunculus let you have control.”

Ling didn’t say anything, just grabbed Ed by the shirt and tossed him aside, hard. Ed hit the ground with a crack, landing on crispy leaves and sticks, some of it getting shoved up his shirt and sleeves as he scrambled to regain his footing. “Hey!” He said, shaking the dirt off. “What’s your deal?”

Ling hovered a few feet from Ed, sharpened hands clenching and unclenching. Ed had fought Ling before back in Rush Valley, and Ling hadn’t been like this. He seethed with intent, his dark eyes and darkening body – he was pulling the shield from Greed, throwing it over his skin like a sheath – hard to see in the late evening. They’d sparred one or twice, Ed and Greedling, and Ed had lost every time. There was a touch of danger to Greedling that didn’t used to exist in Ling alone, only in Greed or when the two were working as one, but now it was like Greed was bleeding into Ling, purging his tendency to pull punches. Ed _had_ hit the ground pretty hard, after all.

“If it’s a fight you want, then fine.” Ed said.

“It’s not what I want that matters, Ed.” Ling said. He left his face unmasked but the rest of his body was coated in carbon. Ling’s shirt bulged against his muscles, too defined and too large for a boy of sixteen, and it drew Ed’s eye. He flushed, ducked his gaze for half a second, and Ling charged. Ed barely had enough time to make sure he was lifting his automail arm in defense and not his real one when Ling’s hand came down, dragging his claws over Ed’s arm, ripping the fabric of his coat. Ed grunted and kicked where Ling’s jaw was, but Ling turned his head in time to miss Ed’s boot.

“You’re still rusty.” Ling said.

Ed tossed his shredded coat aside. “I’ve been recovering from a pretty severe wound, asshole.”

Ling smirked in the low light. Moonlight filtered through the trees, stamping blotches of white over Ling’s face. Ed flushed again, looking hard at that face, grateful for the darkness.

Something else had been bothering Ed lately. Something he had been able to pin down, understand.

He had a crush on Ling. A little one, but the knowledge still prodded him, and the feelings were steadily growing. It was lucky for him that Greed was normally in control, especially when they sparred, but now, being in close proximity to Ling, Ed felt overwhelmingly disadvantaged.

Ling came at Ed again, a flash of dark, and he was faster than Greed, more precise too. He slammed his claw hand open-palmed into Ed’s stomach and Ed coughed as the air left him. He doubled over, one arm curling around his gut, and tried to catch his breath but Ling took hold of his shirt collar and swiped a leg behind Ed’s, sending him to the ground again with a loud thud.

“Can’t give you time to use your alchemy.” Ling said. Ed was still gripping his midsection, trying not to lose control of his dinner of beans, when Ling settled on his chest. Ed pried one eye open and Ling was above him, straddling him, his thighs holding tight to Ed’s sides, one bulging arm pinning Ed’s automail arm to the forest floor. He was so close that Ed could see clearly his smile, the retreat of his carbon shield. “Feel any better?” Ling said.

“Why’s kicking my ass supposed to make me feel better?” Ed grumbled. His stomach began to ache instead of flip, and Ling was a heavy weight on his chest. Ed’s breaths came shallow and fast.

But he did feel better, in a way. The restless energy was still there, but it had been dulled, muffled.

And Ling knew. Ling had known.

Ling brought his face so close to Ed’s that their noses almost touched. “Wanna go again?”

**Author's Note:**

> kudos & comments are lovely :3


End file.
